“Love is not so rare a commodity as you make it out to be,” Charlotte countered, her tone softening. “You need only open yourself to the possibility, and perhaps you will discover what you seek.”
“Perhaps,” I conceded, my gaze drifting towards the window. The sun was sinking lower in the sky, casting warm hues of gold and crimson across the room. “But for now, let us focus on our efforts to return you to good health, dear Charlotte. I am presently the last of my concerns.”
20
31 December
AsJane’scarriagerolledaway, whisking her and my aunt and uncle towards Mr. Bingley’s private fête, I could not help but feel a pang of envy. No New Year’s revelry for me tonight—no curious stares from impertinent gentlemen, no mistletoe, no counting down the seconds until midnight. I stood at the door, watching them vanish, then turned back inside.
It was not that I was not invited. Jane had made that quite clear—Mr. Bingley had implored her to bring me, but I could not leave Charlotte alone. And I would never dream of asking Jane to stay behind, too. Not when it seemed Mr. Bingley was so eager to introduce her to his friends. So, Charlotte and I had resigned ourselves to a comfortable evening in.
“Dearest Lizzy,” Charlotte said as I came back to the drawing room, “You really should have gone. I cannot abide thinking that I robbed you of tonight’s party.”
“Charlotte, do not fret,” I replied, squeezing her arm gently. “A quiet evening spent in your company shall prove far more enjoyable than being forced to endure the tiresome attentions of a room full of amorous gentlemen or the haughty gazes of Caroline Bingley. Now, come! What would you like to do this evening? Do you feel like playing at cards?”
“Oh, no. Not that I do not feel I can manage it, but that is such a dull way to pass the evening. Are you sure you are not sorry you did not go tonight?”
I shook my head as I settled myself onto the sofa beside her with my book… my gift from Mr. Darcy. “No. Why would I be sorry? Who is there that I would miss?”
She flashed a look toChilde Harold. “You know very well who I mean.”
I waved a hand. “Pish-posh. Mr. Darcy has no designs on me, nor I on him. Besides, he is probably not even at Mr. Bingley’s tonight. I had a note from Miss Darcy yesterday that spoke of a rather lavish do at Lord and Lady Matlock’s home. They are Mr. Darcy’s aunt and uncle, and can probably demand his presence whenever they please.”
She surveyed me with a patient, searching look. “Well, all the same, Lizzy, I appreciate your company. I think I will try a little of my needlework. Will you read a bit of that splendid book to me? I cannot promise I will not fall asleep, but it will entertainyou, at least.”
“My, we are a riotous pair, are we not?” I chuckled. “I hope we do not destroy my aunt’s drawing room with our wild party tonight.”
I let the book fall open in my lap and sighed as my fingertips caressed the pages. The fire crackled merrily in the grate, its radiant glow casting flickering shadows that danced upon the walls, while soft candlelight bathed the room in an ethereal golden hue. The scent of roasting chestnuts still lingered in the air from earlier in the day, mingling with the faint perfume of rose potpourri that adorned the mantelpiece. It was perfect… a little slice of winter paradise, even if there was no sweeping music to dance to or dashing gentlemen to kiss. I cleared my throat and began reading one of my favorite poems as Charlotte’s needle flashed.
“Strangers to love, nor loving known,To him all climes, all hearts were one,”I recited, enraptured by the raw intensity of the verse. “Oh, Charlotte, what a glorious sentiment! To be so free from the constraints of society, to possess a heart that knows no boundaries.”
“Oh, yes,” she murmured, her eyes never leaving the embroidery that slowly took shape beneath her nimble fingers. “Yet even such a heart must ultimately seek solace and companionship, for we are but social creatures, after all.”
“True, but there is something so very alluring about the notion of unbridled passion,” I sighed, my imagination running wild with visions of clandestine meetings beneath moonlit skies, stolen kisses among shadowed garden paths, and the thrill of forbidden love. Because the sort of romance I fancied would almosthaveto be of the forbidden sort. What man of sense, the only sort I could possibly respect, would have me with my small dowry? Not someone like… oh, like Mr. Darcy, that was certain. It was a pity no other examples would pull to my mind when I tried to think of them.
My musings of passion and adventure were suddenly interrupted by the sound of a brisk rap upon our door. Startled, I glanced at Charlotte. “Who could that be at such an hour?” I wondered aloud, reluctantly setting asideChilde Haroldas I rose to answer the summons.
“Perhaps it is your aunt, come to look in on us,” Charlotte suggested, pausing in her embroidery.
“Or perhaps it is an entire troupe of strolling players, seeking shelter from the cold,” I mused with a wry smile, knowing full well that the odds of either scenario were equally improbable. We had already dismissed Aunt Gardiner’s maid for the night, so I approached the door myself and pulled it open. And my mouth almost hit the floor.
Mr. Darcy stood on the step, and beside him, his sister and a lady I did not know. And behind them all stood Mr. Van der Meer. I blinked and could not speak for a few seconds.
“Forgive our intrusion, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy said. “We thought perhaps we might ask after Miss Lucas.”
I narrowed my eyes and stared at him. “It is after eight in the evening, Mr. Darcy. You… you just came to call on Charlotte?”
“And to bring you a fine bottle of French wine,” Mr. Van der Meer added, holding it up. “What is New Year’s Eve without a little celebration?”
I glanced over my shoulder. “Well, I am not sure if…”
“Lizzy, who is it?” Charlotte had got up from the sofa and followed me into the hall. And the look on her face when she saw our guests… I shall never be able to describe it. Warm shock, delight, and pleasure filled her eyes. And those cheeks that had been so pale for so long now flooded with a rosy blush. “Mr. Van der Meer!” she breathed.
Well, that settled it. Apparently, Charlotte was feeling well enough to entertain. “Please, do come in,” I said, stepping aside to allow our guests to enter.
Once they were inside, Mr. Darcy looked pointedly at his sister, and Georgiana, blushing furiously at being put on the spot, introduced us to her companion, Mrs. Annesley. For her part, Mrs. Annesley seemed a sturdy, genteel sort of woman—a modest soul, not at all the fashionable paragon of aristocracy I would have expected Mr. Darcy to hire for his sister. I… I rather liked her at once, and I believe Charlotte did, too.
Charlotte led the way back into the drawing room, her eyes sparkling helplessly—and more brightly than I had ever seen, even before she fell ill. “Oh, this is such a pleasant surprise! Please, make yourselves comfortable. We are honored by your visit.”
